


The House

by Melime



Category: The Haunting of Hill House (TV 2018)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Crane Family, Experimental Style, Gen, Non-Canonical Character Death, Non-Linear Narrative, Unreliable Narrator, everyone dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-14 20:17:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18483610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melime/pseuds/Melime
Summary: The House was old.The House was patient.And sooner or later, she got to all of them.





	The House

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Português brasileiro available: [A Casa](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19869208) by [Melime GreenLeaf (Melime)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melime/pseuds/Melime%20GreenLeaf)



> Written for the Small Fandom Bang, with accompanying [art](https://dejesss.dreamwidth.org/327.html) by DeJess. I'm going to add the cover and the section breaks to the story, but for now I'm investigating why html is failing me. Also, this reads a bit like a 10k words long poem, so you have been warned.

The House was old.

The House was patient.

And sooner or later, she got to all of them.

The mother who never left.

The father who only left for his children and then stayed for his children as well.

And every single of of those children.

Starting with the smallest, never stopping until it had the complete set.

The House was relentless.

The House was determined.

And she would never leave any one of them escape.

They could run and run and run, but they always come back.

Because that was their home, sweet home.

The House wasn't cruel.

The House wasn't evil.

And she would make sure that they had their own place there.

It was there that they belonged.

And she didn't want to cause them suffering.

Beyond what was needed to keep them there, to keep still.

She could hurt them, she had many times.

But she didn't need to hurt them, if only they behaved.

Fear was a great motivator.

Fear lead them to believe that the House was powerful as she was.

Fear kept them quiet.

But fear would only take them so far.

And it was the warmth of a home that truly kept them there.

And it was the warmth of a home that made them come back even.

All that she ate became a part of its body.

So the souls would carry on together.

Not living, but thriving, in a sense.

The House didn't care either way.

All she needed was the energy.

And she would do whatever it took to get the energy.

All living things must feed.

It was only natural that she did too.

And no judgement of value should be passed onto her for this need.

She feed because it was alive.

She feed because it wanted to remain alive.

Not in those terms perhaps.

Perhaps it would be best to say she feed because it was her instinct, even.

Not a conscious desire, but a need.

But she still feed, on human lives and souls.

Forever kept within her walls.

Forever sustaining her.

Forever keeping her whole and full and strong.

This is a story about a House.

But it is also a story about a family.

And it is above all else.

This is a story about how that family was reunited.

By the same thing that was drove them apart.

\---

The House was a home.

The House was a trap.

The House was one big spider web.

\---

Everything that she killed was hers to keep.

Everything that ever lived within her walls was hers to keep.

Everything that existed because she had allowed was hers to keep.

Everything that could sense her was hers to keep.

Everything that she touched was hers to keep.

Everything that she wanted was hers to keep.

Everything was hers to keep.

Everything that she had was hers to keep.

\---

The House was a home.

The House was a trap.

The House was one big spider web.

\---

It happened like this.

First came the mother. So sensitive, so strong. She who came so close to understanding, so close to escaping, only to come back to the House's waiting trap, to be broken to pieces.

Then came the youngest. So sweet, flavored by hope turned into despair. The more she ran the closest she got to her ending, not knowing that her fate had been already sealed long ago.

Then came the father. So bitter, so weak. Not as satisfying as his children would be, no more than a mere consolation prize, but enough for a time.

Then came the second. So rich, flavored by her contact with death. She was repealed by it, and she was drawn by it, full of delicious contradictions.

Then came the oldest. So guilty, flavored still by the consequences of his disbelief. He moved away and moved on, but he couldn't keep the House from being inside his mind.

Then came the middle child. So powerful, flavored by the abilities that ran strong in her blood. She would always be connected to the other side, regardless of her attempts to push away that connection.

Finally came the other twin. So scared, flavored by every mistake he tried to move on from. The other half of the pair and the final piece of the set, bringing her meal to a full circle.

\---

The House was a home.

The House was a trap.

The House was one big spider web.

\---

Everything that she killed was hers to keep.

She couldn't reach out beyond her walls.

Not as she was anyway.

Her powers always stronger where her body laid.

But once the seed was planted, her web could extend to wherever her prey ran.

It was the beauty of what she did, it was what made so nothing could escape her fangs.

So even as the children ran, she knew they would return, they would always return to her.

They lived within her walls, so they were hers.

And time meant very little to something so powerful.

And time meant very little to something so old.

She could wait, and wait she did, until one by one they came back to her.

\---

The House was a home.

The House was a trap.

The House was one big spider web.

\---

The father was a consolation prize.

He offered himself to her, in exchange for his children, already dissolving within her.

He believed this would make a difference.

He believed they would be free.

He was wrong.

It was never a matter of her having them or not, it was simply a matter of when.

But he believed he was saving them, and that made him a better meal.

Hope, especially pointless hope, made for an exquisite flavor.

He gave himself willingly, knowing what awaited him.

He gave himself to her with no reserves.

It was rare that she could feast on the willing.

So she accepted him and allowed the children to leave.

Knowing that they would soon return.

He wasn't especial, not like the mother.

He wasn't especial, not like the children that shared her blood.

He wasn't especial, he ordinary.

But she had her share of ordinary meals, and they were not without their value.

He had no connection to the other side, which made him hard to tempt.

He had no connection to the other side, which made him hard to control.

He wasn't afraid of her, at first.

He couldn't see that she was more than just a house.

He didn't believe.

As hard as he was to control, his disbelief made him easier to keep.

He didn't know what she was doing to him, to his family, so he didn't know to escape, not until it was too late.

She didn't expect that he would take the children and run.

She was so close to having them then, so close to a meal that would sustain her for centuries to come.

Her mistake was focusing only on the mother, with her powerful blood.

Her blood was her prize, she and the children were the ones that she wanted to keep.

Although she never intended on letting the father go.

She never let anyone go, even if it took decades for her teeth to sink.

She wanted it all and she would have it all.

He had no connection to the other side, so he left her without keeping her with him.

He would be the hardest one to bring back, the hardest one to tempt, but he would not escape.

No one would ever escape.

The children was still connected to her, and he was still connected to them.

That was how she would get to him.

She could always call to the children.

And they would come.

And he would come when they came.

He would try to be heroic once again.

He would try to save them.

And he would succeed, as much as he had the first time.

He would succeed in the only way that he could.

By giving them longer to live.

By giving them hope that they could escape.

He was only making better meals out of them.

The aging and the waiting made them better.

He was only giving her what she wanted.

It would all work in her favor, in the end.

It all always worked in her favor, in the end.

He came with the children and he stayed in their place.

But she found a way into the hearts of each and every one of them.

He believed that he would be enough for her, but he was never enough.

She couldn't bend his mind as easily as she did the others, and yet, she still broke him.

He was a broken man when he left her for the first time.

Taking his children but leaving his heart behind.

A broken man who could only ever be miserable.

A broken man who couldn't even keep his children by his side.

She didn't cause that, not directly, but this was still her doing.

She took his wife and he couldn't cope, so he drifted through the world as a shadow of a man.

It was how she loved her meals, broken, with only her to give them comfort.

Within her, they would no longer suffer, no longer be in pain.

They would exist only for her, only to lure others into her domain.

Even weak as he was, it was how she wanted him.

And she would give him back his wife. And she would give him back his daughter.

All he had to do was stay.

Even so he fought, even if only in his mind.

Even so he refused to give in entirely.

So sure he was that this was his big heroic sacrifice.

So sure he was that he was doing this for purely selfless reasons.

So sure he was that he was doing this only for his children.

But he was a broken man.

He was only ever a broken man.

And he could do nothing else if not hurt, for as long as he stayed away from her.

He lost his wife and he lost his family, but only with her could he get them back.

Everything he lost was hers to give back.

And his reasons were selfish.

He was only there because he had nothing outside of her.

He was only there because he wanted everything back.

And she was always willing to give it to him.

All he ever wanted was with her, and all he needed to get it was to be hers.

She wasn't cruel, she didn't want his suffering.

Not after anyway.

Suffering made a meal richer, but it did nothing for her once he was a part of her.

After he gave in, all the suffering could be over.

There was no more need for pain.

He was a broken man, but within her he would be made whole again.

All the pain would stop, as long as he was hers.

He was weak, but that wouldn't matter.

He was weak, but she wouldn't let him go.

He was weak, but she was still entitled to him.

When he crossed, his lack of connection to the other side wouldn't matter anymore.

When he crossed, he would be like every other soul that she possessed.

When he crossed, he would be hers, and only that would matter.

\---

The House was a home.

The House was a trap.

The House was one big spider web.

\---

Everything that ever lived within her walls was hers to keep.

It was the price that they paid for having a home.

A home was much more than a house, and she provided that to them.

She would change, adapt, anything to keep them.

She was kind to them, when kindness was needed.

She was cruel to them, when cruelty was needed.

Human beings are complex creatures, so contradictory in their needs.

That was what made them so savory.

\---

The House was a home.

The House was a trap.

The House was one big spider web.

\---

The second had power that she didn't know she possessed.

The promise of power was always within her, it existed within her blood.

And yet it was so faint.

Their blood was strong, but divided, and she only gained death.

It was a dangerous thing, to be connected to death.

Death could be kind, and death could be cruel.

Those touched by death can never escape its gasp.

Death her touched her so young, drawn by her power, and it would never let her go.

Death would always be around her, so she surrounded herself with death.

It was easier this way, to make sense of the decay.

The House had to break her, with pain after pain, so that she could see.

The kittens were her undoing.

There was something about children and kittens.

The way the young are always attracted to the young.

She didn't understand the connection, but she could use it.

She gave the children the kittens, and then she took them away.

One for each child, as a promise of what was to come.

And she always kept her promises.

They were hers, and they were going to be taken by her.

The children and the kittens were the same.

Both helpless.

Both unable to escape their own fate.

Both had no one that could protect them.

They only had those that tried and failed.

The children and the kittens were the same.

Small.

Insignificant.

Waiting for predator to come swoop them.

They were only ever waiting for the end.

The children and the kittens were the same.

Hers.

Covered in decay.

Alive only while she allowed them.

They only existed as a function of her.

The kittens were only ever kittens, but the children grew.

The second grew until the child turned into a woman.

She had children of her own, more children of that delicious and powerful blood.

She had children of her own, not knowing that she was dooming them with her blood.

She had children of her own, but the children didn't belong to her.

They belonged to the House, even if she was never their home.

They only existed because of the House.

And so they belonged to her just as surely as those who had lived within her.

The children had that blood within them, but they were not awakened to their power.

Like their mother, they were doomed to be a locked vessel, never taping on what was within.

She would never be powerful as her mother, even if she carried the same blood.

She was the first daughter, but not a true heir.

Her connection to death was the only manifestation of forces higher than her.

Her life would be lived away from the unexplained.

She lived a long life, older than her mother would ever be.

She watched her children grow, not knowing that they too were caught in the web.

They too had no hope of escaping.

She watched her children grow and leave her, not knowing that they would come back to her.

They too had no hope of escaping.

She watched her children grow and live their own lives.

Not knowing that anything they made belonged to the House.

They too had no hope of escaping.

She would be reunited with them as well, even if it would take a long time.

She would come to her parents and her siblings first.

But her children would come to meet her as well.

The House was patient, and she could wait to get what she needed.

It was only ever a matter of time.

The second was so sure that she had escaped, so sure of herself.

She always thought that she was the one to leave unmarked, unscarred.

She believed herself to be free, believed herself to have been stronger.

She only had the others to compare herself to, it was easy for her to trick herself.

One was in denial, one was in exile, one needed the numbness, one felt too much.

She was stable, in her own eyes.

She thought she had gotten away from the House.

She thought she had left everything behind.

She thought she had made a life for herself.

But that was only her delusion.

She was just as they were.

Just as susceptible.

She was never going to escape.

She was just as they were.

Just as scarred.

She was never going to escape.

She was just as they were.

Just as traumatized.

She was never going to escape.

As much as she believed herself free, she was still bating her wings against the web.

As much as she fought, she only ever managed to trap herself further.

As much as she tried to move on.

She would always return to where everything had started.

She didn't need to get back to the House.

She would still be hers, even if she never stepped foot on her again.

She didn't need to go back, but she still did.

She came back because death was calling to her, as it did all her life.

She came back because she couldn't ignore the call anymore.

She came back because she couldn't keep moving forward.

She had long since left the child behind, but she was still a child when she came back.

She would always be the child, even as her children had children of their own.

She was old now, but still the same child that she had always been.

Such was the way that time worked, not always forward.

Time was a curious thing, in relation to the other side.

The living can only ever move one way, but the dead are free to roam.

And the House was of the dead.

More than she could ever be of the living.

So she could make them move by her rules.

Those who were marked by her didn't have the same constraints as the other living.

So the second came, old and grey, and she was a child once again.

And this was her home.

After such a long time, she was finally back home, where she belonged.

\---

The House was a home.

The House was a trap.

The House was one big spider web.

\---

Everything that existed because she had allowed was hers to keep.

They children were hers, and so their children were hers

They lived because she allowed, and so she was connected to them.

They were lives that she had created, and one day she would take them.

Nothing could escape her, not even the ones that name touched her trap.

The blood connected them, and the blood would bring them back.

\---

The House was a home.

The House was a trap.

The House was one big spider web.

\---

The oldest was her keeper, or he thought himself to be.

The mission was given to him by his father, and he believed he could carry it on.

He believed he could keep everyone else away from her.

He believed he could protect his siblings.

He believed that they were free.

But he was hers, he had always been hers.

The blood was there too, that powerful blood that their mother had.

The blood that connected to the other side.

The blood that made them such an enticing meal.

But he had no power of his own.

There was nothing to him, except the ability to hear her, to see what she wanted to show him.

His blood made him susceptible, but it didn't give him nothing in return.

And so he was a skeptical.

His own blood denying him the proof that he always sought and always feared.

He went hunting for ghost stories, but only because they needed them not to be true.

He needed his mother to be ill and the ghosts to be fake.

He needed to believe that there was only one world.

But this was never once about what he needed.

He could only keep his eyes closed for so long, until the truth forced them open again.

He was his mother's son, after all, and he couldn't be anything different.

He never had a chance of escaping, and he never had a chance of controlling the House.

She was much too powerful for him, and much too old.

She was standing long before he had been born.

She would be standing long after he had turned to ash.

She was an energy, more than a place, and even putting her down wouldn't decrease her powers.

He never tried though, because he knew.

The House was more than brick and mortar.

And even if she was put down, she could build herself up again.

She would forever stand as a trap to sensitive souls.

And she would always have souls upon which to feast.

He was no exception, despite his disbelief.

He was hers just as surely as the others had been.

She took him when he was old and grey, just as his sister before him.

Like her, he had fulfilled his purpose.

Once he had been afraid of an illness running through his blood.

Then he learned of the truth.

Then he learned that his mother was never sick, only a victim.

Then he learned that there was more than what he believed.

He should have known then, that it wasn't so simple.

He should have known then, that the answer laid still in blood.

He should have known then, that it was curse not illness.

His blood was cursed not ill.

What killed his mother ran through his veins.

That same blood that he would pass along to his children.

He should have known then.

He should have remained afraid.

Because his children were hers too, just as he was.

He had left because she allowed it.

They existed because she allowed it.

They were hers.

He believed himself to be her keeper, but he couldn't control her.

She would have her due.

He should have remained afraid.

He tried to push his past away, he tried to push the House away.

But it was in his blood, it would always be in his blood.

He couldn't escape, and his offspring wouldn't escape either.

He was still connected to her, he would always be connected to her.

But she still waited to call him.

Waited until she had two of his sisters.

Waited until he was grown and feeling safe.

He though this was all behind him, even as the second sister died.

Her heart gave out, not suicide, not murder.

He didn't believe that the House took her.

He didn't believe that this was all her doing.

He didn't believe that they would never be free.

The remaining were suspicious, of course.

Afraid, even.

But so long had passed.

Such a long time to be at peace.

They wanted to believe that there was nothing more to it.

But he couldn't remain without visiting her.

He believed himself to be her keeper, after all.

He believed it was his duty to keep her in check.

So he couldn't keep away.

Years and years passed between his visits.

Over a decade at a time even.

He stayed so long away, but he always came back.

He always came back to her.

Just as it was supposed to be.

He came back and she would let him leave.

Over and over again.

She could let him leave, because she knew she would have him in the end.

She was always going to have him.

Until one day she decided not to let him leave.

So long had passed for him.

She had allowed him to live for so long.

It was time that she had him back.

There were many ways that she could keep him.

There were many things that she could do.

Many things that she could do.

To keep him there.

To have him.

To make him dead.

Within her walls, the world was hers to bend and shape.

Everything existed to do her will.

She could convince him that he left, while keeping him there.

She could convince him that there was no reason to leave.

She could convince him that death was the best way.

But in the end the best solution could be ever so simple.

There was no need to flavor him further.

He was already ripe for the pick.

There was no need to scare him.

No need to set a trap.

He came to visit her, and she wouldn't let him leave.

She would keep him this time.

So easy it was, a step too weak for his weight.

A broken piece of wood, and down he went.

So quick to tumble down.

A broken neck, and that was it.

He wouldn't leave her again.

He was always supposed to be hers.

And now he wouldn't leave anymore.

\---

The House was a home.

The House was a trap.

The House was one big spider web.

\---

Everything that could sense her was hers to keep.

It took power to see her, power to understand.

To those without any, she was just a house.

She would take them just the same.

She would always take it all.

But those with power, those were the ones that she savored.

Those were her favorites to take.

She would never let anyone escape.

But those with power, those held a special place to her.

Those were the ones that she fought the hardest to keep.

And they were hers, by every right.

\---

The House was a home.

The House was a trap.

The House was one big spider web.

\---

The mother thought she could fight her.

She was powerful, that one.

Inherited abilities, strong blood.

She had the advantage of always believing.

She was always open to the possibility that there was something else there.

She almost got it right.

She almost saved her children.

She almost killed her children.

It was an interesting effort, only to have it all turn to ashes.

In trying to save them, she almost delivered them in a platter.

Wouldn't that have been something?

She knew that she couldn't leave.

Leaving would do her any good.

She had lived in the House.

Her children had lived in the House.

They were all hers now.

Even if they left, they would have to return, they couldn't do anything else.

Even if they left, they were still hers.

Even if they left, she would still get them.

The mother knew most of that, or she guessed enough.

The mother knew enough to know not t run.

The mother knew enough to try to fight.

It wasn't enough, though.

It would never be enough.

She couldn't fight against the House.

The House was too old, too powerful.

It was a fight that she was never meant to win.

But her struggle was admirable just the same.

She tried to protect the children, even as she lost her mind.

That was the thing that humans always failed to notice when it came to the other side.

Were they loosing their minds, or was this real?

So often was the answer both.

To look into the other side was something that humans weren't meant to do.

They weren't made to see what existed beyond their world.

It made strange things to their minds.

It was almost by design, it made it easier to lure them.

It made it easier to isolate them, to keep them all alone.

The mother was no exception.

Everything that she saw was real, but she was still losing her mind.

That was the beauty of it all.

The mother knew the truth, but she couldn't convince anyone of it.

She was utterly alone to fight.

There was no one that she could confide in.

No one that could help her.

Her husband didn't believe.

Her children were so used to the other side that they didn't know any better.

To them the other side was common.

They didn't know when they saw something that shouldn't be there.

So she couldn't tell them.

She couldn't convince her own children of the truth.

Even though they saw it too.

So she was alone.

And little by little, the House was taking them.

She could fight, of course she could.

It was what she had to do.

A beautiful butterfly battering her wings against the spider's web.

Struggling and struggling only to get further trapped.

What was point?

She would still be eaten, only more tired than before.

She never had any chance of escaping.

And yet it was what she had to do.

She had to try, even if she were never meant to escape.

She had to try, even if there wasn't any point to it.

She was a mother defending her young.

It was just bad luck that she had to end like this.

But power is drawn to power.

Those with a connection to the other side always arrive in such places.

Even if they don't intend to.

Because power is drawn to power.

She had powerful blood, and five children born of it.

All of them receptive in their own way.

And power is drawn to power.

It would only ever end badly.

But she fought and she fought and she fought.

Admirable in her attempts, even if she was always meant to lose.

She got so close, only to get it all wrong.

Because the girl belong to the House yet, but she hadn't been collected.

She was being grown, as the House waited for the moment to pick her.

She was no more an agent of her ways than the other children.

That was the mother's mistake.

That was were everything went wrong.

She believed that she could solve everything, as long as she got rid of the girl.

All she did was do the House's work for her.

Everything that she could do to them wouldn't compare to the reality of their mother.

There were ways that only family could hurt someone.

There were ways that only loved ones could hurt someone.

There were ways that only bad actions with good intentions could hurt someone.

What the mother did was better than anything the House could do.

It would have been better if her children had died as well, but the suffering was enough.

All those years and years of pain and trauma that she gave them.

Destroyed their lives.

Left them with a trauma deep enough to cause decades of pain and suffering.

So much pain over a single night.

It was only fuel for their connection.

The pain and the trauma kept them linked to the House.

So all that the mother did to protect them did nothing more than to seal their fate.

Like the butterfly, she had no choice but to fight.

Like the butterfly, fighting did nothing but trap her further.

Like the butterfly, she was dead from the moment she flew to the trap.

The longer they stayed, the more the House's teeth could sink into them.

The mother was the first, and she was enough to keep the House strong.

So powerful, so desperate already.

There was never anything else for her than this.

A tortured soul driven to murder.

The death of an innocent, caused without intention.

The one night that would mark all of the survivors, for as long as they shall live.

Almost a perfect night, the culmination of everything the House had done to them so far.

Such a wonderful attempt to strike back, always doomed to failure.

And so she died, bringing along with her that sweet little girl.

And so she died, branding her children with trauma.

And so she died, marking the beginning of the hunt.

The first one to go, and all the others would soon follow her.

\---

The House was a home.

The House was a trap.

The House was one big spider web.

\---

Everything that she touched was hers to keep.

Nothing could shake her effects.

Nothing could rid itself of her.

Nothing could be safe from her.

She was all encompassing within her domain.

There was nothing in her domain that she couldn't reach.

There was nothing in her domain that she couldn't touch.

There was nothing in her domain that she couldn't kill.

\---

The House was a home.

The House was a trap.

The House was one big spider web.

\---

The middle one was the most powerful of all the children.

The same blood ran through all of their veins, but she was different.

From the start her powers manifested, by themselves and not because of the House.

It was what set her apart from the others.

She was always meant to have contact with the other side.

Even if she had never stepped foot on the House.

Her powers would always have manifested.

Perhaps not as soon, but soon.

As a child even, although perhaps not that young.

Such was the way that powers like that worked.

If not the House, something else would have forced her to sense.

Forced her to embrace what she could do.

She was powerful, that one, even as a young child.

So powerful, so much like her mother.

Her soul was wide open, waiting for contact.

She could have been dangerous, if she had been trained.

She could have fought back, like her mother did.

She could have defended herself, if only she knew how.

But she was never properly taught.

Always fighting against her own abilities.

Struggling to keep them at bay.

Until the moment that she needed them.

But this wasn't a door that could be kept ajar.

She couldn't reject her powers and use them at the same time.

She couldn't reject her powers at all.

Doing so wouldn't keep her safe from the other side.

Nothing could keep her safe from the other side.

The House had already claimed her.

The House would have her.

It was just a matter of time.

She could run and she could hide, but she couldn't escape.

Her place was in the other side.

The powerful ones were always like this.

They belonged to the other side, not to the living.

It was how their powers worked.

They had a foot within each world.

Belonging to both, and to neither.

It was always the most powerful that felt they didn't belong.

It was always the most powerful that isolated themselves.

It was always the most powerful that were preyed on.

Their souls were the most coveted.

Their energy was the most intense.

The middle one had that, despite her attempts at denial.

She had all that same power that ran through her mother.

All the power that was diluted in her siblings, but not in her.

All the power that the House wanted.

She resisted the call for years, decades even.

She was good at that, good at ignoring what came through her powers.

A lifetime taught her to do this.

But she could only ever close herself to both worlds, never just one.

To close her connection to the dead was closing her connection to the living.

To open herself up to the living again was to open her connection to the dead.

The two only existed interconnected.

At least for those who existed to bridge the distance between them.

For them, there was no choice.

To have one was to have the other.

To give up on one was to give up on the other.

That was the lesson that the middle one would have to learn.

She could only keep the call at bay for so long.

One day, she too would return to the House.

There were only too left.

The children now grown.

Full lives lived on the time bought to them by their parents.

Their sister's death enough to force them to live.

How perfect was she when she finally came.

Years of isolation, years of denial.

Then years of embracing her powers.

So perfect, so strong.

A meal to remember.

So much better than the little girl would have been.

She was like her own little web.

A lifetime of collecting pain and sorrow.

A lifetime of miserable children.

A lifetime of feeling what others felt.

And she brought all of that along with her.

When she finally came.

Only two left, when she came.

The second to last, so close to the end.

And she lived, how had she lived.

Enough memories for dozens of lifetimes.

Her own lost in the middle.

Like she was, always, lost in the middle.

The oldest felt responsible.

The youngest only knew each other.

And there she was, lost, abandoned.

Long before the gloves, long before closing herself off.

She was lost.

But the House had a place for her.

The House had always been the place for her.

Existing among the living, belonging to the dead.

Just as she was.

The House was her place, and she belonged to the House.

Just as it was supposed to be.

Years passed since her last meal.

Years since she had taken the last sibling.

But she knew the middle one would come.

That she would come angry, furious even.

One night when she couldn't hold her emotions any longer.

She would come yelling and demanding explanations.

Knowing that the House wouldn't answer.

Knowing that the House couldn't answer.

But she would still come.

She would still hope beyond hope to get something out of this.

She would still hope beyond hope that she could learn the reason why.

She would still hope beyond hope that a reason existed.

Because they would never be left alone.

Her family would never be left alone.

They would always belong to the House.

The House would always collect her due.

There wasn't a reason.

No answer could exist.

It was simply the way that things were.

And as things were, she would always be meant to return.

All the frustration.

All the anger.

It was why the House would no longer let her leave.

She was too perfect now, too savory.

It was finally time to collect.

The House was her place.

She belonged to the House.

She couldn't leave, not anymore.

This was the place where she belonged.

And her family was almost complete there.

At last, she wouldn't be lost within them.

At last, she wouldn't be the spare.

At last, she would be made a part of something bigger.

After running away and struggling for so long.

The middle one finally came home.

\---

The House was a home.

The House was a trap.

The House was one big spider web.

\---

Everything that she wanted was hers to keep.

There was never any escape, because the victims' fates were sealed.

What she wanted she would get, no escape, no exceptions.

No matter how far they ran or how much they tried to escape.

There was no escape from her.

Her powers would still reach them.

In the end, they would always be hers.

And the end was the same as the beginning.

Everything was set from the start.

Time had no meaning for her, she was patient, she could wait.

\---

The House was a home.

The House was a trap.

The House was one big spider web.

\---

The youngest was the first of the children to come.

A strange power she had.

The twin and the twin, two halves of the same whole.

Always connected, those two.

What happened to one, the other could feel.

Which was why she had to separate them.

It was the best way to prepare that meal.

One twin for the living, one twin for the dead.

The connection never broken, always there.

It was a shame, that was all there was.

The connection between them and a certain receptiveness, that was all.

Not a power that she could control.

Not something that she could evoke.

Simply something that she was.

Simply something that she could feel.

But it was power nonetheless.

Greater than that of all of her siblings, but one.

It was a privilege, what the House got in them.

Not only twins, but twins with a connection to the other side.

Not only twins, but twins receptive to her.

Not only twins, but twins born of powerful blood.

All the things that she could do.

All the ways that she could harness their energy.

The youngest was so open to everything around her.

It was easy to communicate with her.

It was easy to manipulate her.

She was open to the possibilities.

Her fate was set from the moment she first walked in the House.

The House had already decided what to do with her.

To use her own powers against her.

To make her cause her own death, in a way.

The youngest had the power to project.

It wasn't strong, it wasn't her best.

It didn't work on others, for the most part.

She could project to herself, and she could project to the twin.

As far as her own abilities went, that was the limit.

Nothing more, without help.

The oldest would see her once, but only once.

A fresh death, and the power that it brought along.

The twin's distress, filling every room he passed.

The family's thoughts, focused on her.

The House's power, after being recently fed.

A series of factors, that allowed her to surpass her powers, just once.

Every other time, she could only project to herself and the twin.

To the future or the past.

What an interesting power to have.

It was rare that humans could behave in such way.

Usually so focused on the present and nothing more.

The past nothing more than memories.

The future nothing more than worries.

They existed in linear time.

Things weren't as simple on the other side.

The youngest was a seer, albeit a weak one.

And to seers time isn't as linear.

Everything happens, everything happened, everything will happen.

All of time exists at once.

All that is already happened.

All that happened is still to come.

All that is to come already is.

The youngest was her own executioner.

The monster that terrified her childhood.

The monster that was there during all her fears.

Nothing more than a projection.

Fear made her see into the future.

And death sent her running to the past.

The child saw her own funeral, and didn't even know to recognize it.

And what an energy funerals had.

A death, and all the focus of those who attend.

Funerals had power in their own way.

So it was no shock that fear sent her there.

Fear sent her to when the connection was strongest.

All her siblings reunited, thinking only of her.

And she didn't even know to recognize it.

All she knew was that they couldn't see her.

All she knew was that they couldn't hear her.

They were thinking of her, but it wasn't enough.

The child didn't know how to recognize that.

She saw the end, but it wasn't enough.

She saw the end, but she couldn't change it.

There was a powerful energy in death, especially that kind of death.

A death in relation to the other side.

A death assisted by the spirits of the departed.

And so in death her power could manifest.

Projecting herself tot all her past.

Projecting herself to the worst moments.

Making herself continue scared.

It was only her, it was always only her.

That was the beauty of it all.

The woman traumatized the child, allowing her to become the woman.

She was her own maker, and no one even realized.

Her own power consumed her.

Her own power destroyed her.

Her own power brought her back.

Her connection to the House was the strongest.

She was the most receptive of them.

So it was natural that she would be the first.

That she would be the start of the new cycle.

The first of the children that were denied to the House for so long.

And time only made a better meal out of her.

All those years of fear and suffering.

All that pain.

That kind of terror was not something that the House could do alone.

She could use the youngest's power, nudge it in the right direction.

She could even guarantee that the death would match the prediction.

But she couldn't have fabricated that torture.

The House wasn't cruel, not in so many words.

It wasn't her fault that human energy became so much stronger under duress.

She didn't wish for suffering, she didn't need the suffering.

But for those who had power, suffering made them stronger.

And that strength fed her for longer.

It was how things were.

And so the youngest had to suffer.

So that her powers could be awakened.

But all that suffering was self-inflicted.

With just a little help from the House.

Just as her death was a suicide.

With just a little help from the House.

Did she want to live?

Did she want to die?

Did that even matter?

She came back to the House.

And she did so willingly.

The House was under no obligation to allow her to leave again.

No matter why she came back, she was back.

And all the disbelief in the world couldn't protect her.

Walking inside those walls again was her suicide.

That was the self-destruction that she chose.

The way that she died didn't matter.

It was still a suicide.

She still killed herself.

And in death, her powers awakened.

Too late to save herself.

Just soon enough to buy her siblings more time.

It was all that she wanted, to give them more time.

Even if that wouldn't save them.

All that she could do was delay the inevitable.

They would still join her, in time.

Until then, there was no reason for her to suffer anymore.

She was finally back home, and she was already dead.

The House was her home, and it would give her comfort.

The House was her home, and it would give her her family back.

\---

The House was a home.

The House was a trap.

The House was one big spider web.

\---

Everything was hers to keep.

She wouldn't allow anything to escape.

She wouldn't allow anything to be left behind.

Everything belonged to her, and she would get it all.

Nothing was enough to satisfy her.

A powerful place demanded powerful sacrifices to be made.

She depended on them to keep on going.

And she would keep taking them.

Until she had it all.

\---

The House was a home.

The House was a trap.

The House was one big spider web.

\---

The twin was the last one to come.

He was alone by then, all alone in the world.

His siblings had already gone, one by one.

Young or old, they all returned to the House.

They all came back home.

He was like the twin, a receptor.

But he wasn't like her.

He couldn't project like her.

So his suffering came in a different way.

They were forever linked, the twins.

So normal it was to them that they never considered it.

They never wondered if it was normal.

It was normal for them.

And that was enough.

They could sense each other.

Feel what the other felt, when it was strong enough.

And there was nothing stronger than death.

He could feel her death, just as surely as he would his own.

And it would fade, with time.

A death could only generate so much energy.

It would fade, but not disappear.

He would feel her on the other side.

Because of them, the doorway would remain open.

One twin on each side, for as long as the House could stand.

And then when the pair came home, it would be full of energy.

More energy than he himself would possess.

Such a lovely connection, that there was between them.

The power flowed freely between them.

Not even death could keep them apart.

They were as one.

And the twin was the final part of the set.

The last one that she needed.

To complete the family that had gotten away.

She had let them go, but she always knew they would come back.

They were always supposed to come back.

The twin was the last one and he was all alone.

Three times the length of his sister's life he had lasted.

Three times as long as she did.

Older than all of his siblings.

Older than his parents.

She left him for last.

She wanted him to be the last.

The longer they were apart, the strongest the connection was.

The longer they were apart, the strongest the energy became.

And she needed that energy.

That energy would sustain her for decades to come.

Long enough for the humans to forget what happened there.

Long enough for more victims to come to her.

Long enough for her to prevail.

She was grateful for that family.

The powerful, powerful family.

Their strong blood.

Their strong minds.

All the things that she could do to them.

All the ways that she could take them.

They were her family, and she would finally have the whole set.

She didn't even need to call him.

She was planning on calling him.

But in the end, there was no need.

He came back just years after the last sister.

So tired, so alone.

Like the twin, he wanted the end.

Like the twin, he was tired of running away from home.

And she was home.

After all this time, she was still home.

She would always be home.

She would have given him longer.

Waited for the connection to be further charged.

Giving him four times her life even.

But three was a good number, a powerful number.

So long had passed since they first walked into the House.

But to her it was like no time at all.

She existed beyond such constraints.

Time happened for her, but in a different fashion.

So when the twin came, he was a little boy again.

He was still the old man, tired and weary.

But he was the little boy.

So young and fragile.

The twin was the youngest, but he was the one that looked like it.

He was small and weak.

He was the one all the others had to care for.

He grew beyond this, in time.

But when he came back, he was exactly the same.

And all his family was there to welcome him.

There was peace in the House.

Now that things were over, there was no need for panic.

No need for suffering.

No need for any more pain.

Everything would be well now.

Everything would be in their proper place.

They would finally be the happy family in their forever home.

As they had always wanted.

He wanted them all to be together.

He wanted things to go back.

He wanted this to happen.

He knew that he was the final piece.

He knew that he was the missing piece.

He knew that his pair was waiting for him.

The twins would at long last be reunited.

And he was finally ready to die.

She didn't need to chase after him.

He came back willingly.

He ran the hardest.

But she still got to him, in the end.

He couldn't run forever.

He couldn't keep her at bay.

He couldn't stay away.

She was everything that he had left.

But she wasn't cruel.

She could have ripped him to shreds as a child.

She could have taken him right there.

And no one would have found him.

But she didn't.

She gave him a scare and allowed him to leave.

He was better like this.

Souls touched by the other side.

Over and over again.

More there than here.

Those were the strongest ones.

Those were the ones that she wanted.

He didn't keep his promises.

From the start he meant not to abandon the twin.

But he shouldn't have promised what he couldn't give.

He left her alone.

After promising not to.

He left her alone.

After promising to stand by her.

He left her alone.

After promising they were as one.

It was time he kept his promises.

It was time he came back.

The last one.

The end of the cycle.

Then the family would be complete.

Then the family would be together.

Then the family would be done.

Just as they were on that summer they would be.

The moment forever captured.

One happy family.

Together at last.

And he would be the one to bring them together.

His suicide was like the twin's.

He walked inside the House.

And he never walked out.

What she did to him didn't matter.

He knew it was the end the moment he walked in.

He took his own life, not her.

She only did what she had to do.

And then it was over.

The last one completed the set.

And the family was together once again.

Just as it was supposed to be.

\---

The House was a home.

The House was a trap.

The House was one big spider web.

\---

Everything that she had was hers to keep.

She would never let anything go away.

Not for long anyway.

Those souls were hers.

And until the end of times, they would be there.

All of them together.

All of them with her.

She was a House but she was also a home.

A home to every one that she collected.

The souls that she collected were safe there.

And there they would remain for as long as she stood.

And there she would stand until the end of times.

Such was the way that things were.

\---

The House was a home.

The House was a trap.

The House was one big spider web.

\---

It happened like this.

First came the mother. So sensitive, so strong. She who came so close to understanding, so close to escaping, only to come back to the House's waiting trap, to be broken to pieces.

Then came the youngest. So sweet, flavored by hope turned into despair. The more she ran the closest she got to her ending, not knowing that her fate had been already sealed long ago.

Then came the father. So bitter, so weak. Not as satisfying as his children would be, no more than a mere consolation prize, but enough for a time.

Then came the second. So rich, flavored by her contact with death. She was repealed by it, and she was drawn by it, full of delicious contradictions.

Then came the oldest. So guilty, flavored still by the consequences of his disbelief. He moved away and moved on, but he couldn't keep the House from being inside his mind.

Then came the middle child. So powerful, flavored by the abilities that ran strong in her blood. She would always be connected to the other side, regardless of her attempts to push away that connection.

Finally came the other twin. So scared, flavored by every mistake he tried to move on from. The other half of the pair and the final piece of the set, bringing her meal to a full circle.

\---

The House was a home.

The House was a trap.

The House was one big spider web.

\---

Everything that she killed was hers to keep.

Everything that ever lived within her walls was hers to keep.

Everything that existed because she had allowed was hers to keep.

Everything that could sense her was hers to keep.

Everything that she touched was hers to keep.

Everything that she wanted was hers to keep.

Everything was hers to keep.

Everything that she had was hers to keep.

\---

The House was a home.

The House was a trap.

The House was one big spider web.

\---

So ended the story of that family.

The family that the House that destroyed.

The family that the House had united.

They remained because she allowed it.

And she allowed it because she could.

The House wasn't cruel.

There was no point in causing anymore harm.

They had served their purpose.

They had helped her, in their own way.

So she could help them, in her own way.

She was a house, but she was also a home.

She could be a home to them.

She could be a home to all that she had collected.

She could be a home.

There was no need to be cruel.

There was no need to cause suffering to the dead.

There was no reason to inflict anymore pain.

They were with her now.

They were hers now.

She could still hurt them, if she wanted.

She could still torture them.

She could still torment them.

But she wouldn't.

If there was no need.

If they behaved.

If they weren't needed.

Because the souls were hers.

But they were more than scraps.

More than just what was left of her meal.

They were bait, when needed be.

Some tortured beyond recognition.

Some turned into monsters.

Some happy.

Different baits for different needs.

But all of them hers.

All of them serving only her needs.

She would give them a home.

And she would give them comfort.

She would give them everything that they needed.

As long as it they served her.

They only existed to serve her.

They only existed to be a part of her.

The House was big.

The House was old.

She existed in two planes.

And she existed in many times.

The House wasn't cruel.

But she could be, if she so wished.

She had taken many lives during her existence.

She had taken many souls.

She had taken all that crossed her path.

But one family was special to her.

The family with power running through their veins.

They gave her more than others had.

And so she gave them more as well.

She gave them what they wanted.

She gave them the chance to be a family.

She gave them a home to exist in.

And they were hers.

The perfect bait.

A proof of how happy they could be.

A proof of how happy any soul could be.

As long as they gave in.

As long as they accepted her for all that she was.

They were the proof that it was better to accept her.

They were the proof that it was better not to fight.

They were the proof that she could be kind.

The House wasn't cruel.

But she could be.

And she would be.

To those that resisted her.

There was so much suffering that she could cause.

There was so much suffering that she had caused already.

There was so much suffering that she had yet to cause.

She could be cruel.

If she needed to be.

She could be so cruel.

She could ruin all of those lives.

She could break them before taking them.

But she wasn't cruel.

Not by nature anyway.

Her nature was just that of a predator.

And a predator needed to feed.

That was the only thing there was to it.

She needed to feed.

And souls were her food.

No judgement should be passed onto her for that.

All living things must feed.

And she was alive, in her own way.

Even if not in the same way as the things she killed.

She was a being, not a place.

She was a being, not a thing.

She was a being, and she deserved to exist.

She didn't need to be cruel.

She could be kind.

As long as her prey didn't fight.

And even if they fought, she could choose to be kind.

As she had with the family that ran.

She allowed them to run.

She allowed them to come back.

She allowed them happiness.

The final moment in which they were all together.

The final moment in which they were all well.

The final moment in which they were all happy.

And she gave it back to them.


End file.
